Page 59 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
It continues to buzz incessantly, but I ignore it as I merge recklessly between the other cars on the road.
Pulling to a stop in the middle of the street at her building, I throw the car in park and climb out. Leaving the keys in the engine and the door open, I race up to the second-floor apartment door.
Pulling the gun from the back of my pants, I slowly turn the knob and walk into the apartment. I look down and sigh as I step over Paolo’s limp body.
They were here.
“Shut the fuck up,” I hear Angelo’s familiar voice from the back of the apartment.
I hear the faint distinctive sound of skin hitting skin as Ellie cries out in pain.
“You love when he hits you and fucks you like a whore,” he yells at her as he hits her again.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
Quickly making my way to the back of the apartment, toward their voices, Ellie’s screams change from those of pain to those of panic.
ChapterForty-Four
ELLIE
Angelo’s naked body straddles mine and he continues to berate me. Shaming me for my relationship with Sal and his lack of understanding of our physical relationship.
The terror in me grows as I watch him grow hard, knowing I will never be able to fight him off.
He fists himself as he manically smiles down at me, “I was only a nice guy in bed because I thought that’s what you wanted.”
An evil snarl spreads on his face as he says, “But if being fucked like a whore is what you like, I can do that for you.”
“No,” I plead trying to keep him from between my thighs, “Please…don’t.”
“Go ahead and beg, beautiful,” he groans as he settles against my entrance, “Once I start, you’ll be begging me. Begging me to never stop fucking you.”
“Please…” I cry uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face as I stare up at his menacing smile.
“Fucking beg,” I watch as he grabs his shaft to press inside me.
“You fucking beg,” Sal’s fingers fist Angelo’s hair and he pulls him from me. Using his grip, Sal throws Angelo against the wall. The sheetrock cracks and Angelo crumples to the floor.
Sal drops to the floor and straddles Angelo’s naked body. His fists repeatedly pummel Angelo’s face. The sound of bones breaking physically turns my stomach, but Sal keeps swinging.
I can see Sal’s back heaving with exertion as he continues to throw punch after punch at Angelo’s lifeless body. The nauseating sounds of Sal striking Angelo’s blood-drenched skin continue to fill the room.
“Sal,” his name barely a whisper from my mouth.
Taking a deep breath, I yell, “Sal!”
He sits up on Angelo, his tired arms hanging at his sides as he catches his breath. He stands slowly, still breathing hard with anger. Looking down at his own bloodied hands, he stands over Angelo.
I watch him pull a gun from the back of his pants before closing my eyes.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The gun clatters against the floor and I open my eyes to find Sal standing at the side of the bed.
In this moment, he is the perfect blend of the good I see in him and darkness he lives with. His hands and knuckles are broken and bloody, likely a mixture of his blood and Angelo’s. Sweat and blood cover the front of his shirt and his face. So much blood that the whites of his eyes are the most noticeable part of his face.
His eyes.
